Solitude
by melodyfair
Summary: HG, one-shot. Set at the Weasleys', summer after OoP...contains spoilers. Ginny and Harry have more in common than Harry realized...can she break his silence?


  
Author's Note: This ficlet is set in the paddock by the Weasleys' home; I wanted to write a short story about how Ginny might reach Harry a little bit better than anyone else, and why she would. The story begins with Harry having climbed a little ways up into a tree bordering the paddock. It's short, but not too shabby. Enjoy, H/G shippers...  
  
_ Solitude  
_  
A sound sliced through the dark quiet of Harry's thoughts. Irritated that someone or something would have the indecency to interrupt his brooding, Harry whirled around on his tree branch to seek out the offender. Scanning the ground quickly, he could see nothing moving on the shaded grass below him. Shrugging it off, Harry was about to get lost in his thoughts again when he heard the sound again. Eyes narrowed now with suspicion rather than anger, Harry swiveled around as best he could on his branch, trying to see if another Weasley was possibly headed up the tree to try and talk to him. While he was sure that Ron as well as his brothers had only the best intentions, Harry just didn't want to be disturbed.  
In the process of twisting around on his branch, Harry caught a glimpse of the darkening sky through the tangle of branches above him. As he gazed upward, a small, reddish blur streaked across his line of sight. Squinting against the setting sun, Harry made out the long ponytail of Ginny Weasley, obviously taking advantage of the breezy summer evening. As Ginny flew directly over the tree that Harry was concealed in, he heard the sound again, this time realizing it to be the sound of a broom whooshing overhead. Glancing down at the base of the tree, Harry reaffirmed that his Firebolt was still propped up against its gnarled trunk, then looked back out through the leaves to watch her impromptu Quidditch practice.   
Ginny was really quite a talented flyer...despite her old broom, she managed to keep up a quick pace as she looped around the paddock. Though Harry had thought he was well concealed, Ginny spotted him through the green leaves fairly soon. Rather than come over to say hello, Ginny simply raised one hand in a brief greeting and then continued honing her spiraling skills. Harry appreciated this very much; Ginny had an uncanny ability to sense when solitude was preferable to company, especially when it came to Harry. She, at least, hadn't made half a dozen attempts to search him out this summer when he disappeared from the Burrow, as Ron and Hermione had. They didn't want to leave him alone for 5 minutes. It was as though they were afraid that if they left him alone, his mind would drift to unpleasant thoughts – thoughts of Sirius, for example.  
Harry suddenly shook his head furiously and jumped down from his branch. He picked up his Firebolt and was about to head off to somewhere else – anywhere else – when he caught another glimpse of Ginny, now spiraling lazily high above him, staring off towards the horizon. Harry was surprised, and a little unsettled, to see Ginny looking uncharacteristically...sad.  
Mounting his broom and taking off, Harry sped heavenward to interrupt Ginny's reverie. The wind lifted him and his spirits, and a slight smile played across his lips as he banked a hard left to circle back to her. He knew that Ginny realized he was there, but she didn't move to acknowledge his presence in any way; as he pulled up beside her, Ginny continued to gaze up the hill at her home. Harry remained silent, suddenly doubting his decision to join Ginny. Maybe, he realized with a sinking heart, Ginny only wanted some solitude, too. It must be even harder for her to get than him, being with six older brothers.  
"That's Percy's window," Ginny said suddenly and abruptly. "Well. It was." She pointed, and Harry followed her gaze to the only window with closed curtains on the side of the house that they were facing. Ginny said nothing more, but looked at the window with an expression of such sadness, mingled with anger, that Harry dropped his eyes from her face. It seemed like a private mourning that Harry didn't feel he had the right to intrude on. His heart wrenched with a funny kind of pain as he realized that Ginny was mourning her brother's loss as though he were dead.  
"Do you miss him?" Harry asked quietly. Ginny sighed and looked down at her broom handle.  
"Sometimes," she said softly. "A lot," she admitted with a small smile. "I miss the brother he used to be. He was quirky, and so different from the rest of my brothers...he was odd man out, and that drew me to him, because I was alone a lot, too. I don't know. He was just Percy. He might have been annoying and imperious, but I still miss him, because..." She stopped, then shrugged. "Well. You know."  
Harry was looking at her with a curious hunger in his eyes; it was nothing like any emotion she'd ever seen him express. "No," he said, "I reckon I don't know." His gaze shifted away from her and out over the trees.  
Ginny sighed imperceptibly and said, "Yes, you do. We're all mourning, Harry. Everyone just has their own way of going about it." Harry looked sharply at Ginny, but she wasn't looking at him; her eyes had strayed back to Percy's window, and the pain in her eyes lessened any anger he felt at her last words. The two fell silent, each lost in his or her thoughts. "Do you miss him?" Harry's eyes jerked back to Ginny's face. She was looking at him steadily, and his narrowed eyes didn't seem to faze her. Harry searched her face, hunting for pity or anything resembling it, but found none; more than anything, he couldn't stand people pitying him. He didn't deserve pity. He'd done too much to hurt others to deserve any pity for his situation - Ginny's father had been scathed because of his existence. He could have died. Ginny herself almost died in the Chamber of Secrets. She knew...she knew what it was like to feel the burden of bringing destruction into the lives of others. Why had he never realized that before? Of course Ginny must have felt horribly for what she had done in her first year, although her case seemed slightly less severe to him...after all, Ginny hadn't killed anyone. He, Harry, had killed Cedric and Sirius, too...   
Coming back to the present, Harry looked at Ginny with a new respect. She was still staring at him, waiting for an answer to the question he'd nearly forgotten she asked. He looked down at his broom handle, unsure of what to say; he suddenly felt that he didn't know Ginny very well at all, and wasn't sure how much he wanted to admit to her. He settled on a slow nod. Ginny smiled slightly and nodded as well.   
"Isn't it funny how it's easy and hard to admit that?" she asked. Speaking slowly, she continued, "I reckon...you feel better for letting it out...but letting it out makes it that much more difficult to go back and pretend. We never talk about Percy around here, you know. He's always at the back of our minds, and I know that if we talked about it, things would get easier...but we don't."   
"Percy's still alive, Ginny," Harry said shortly. "And you didn't cause what happened to him, either. The situation's not exactly the same."   
Ginny didn't physically move backward on her broom, but Harry swiftly sensed that what he'd said was a virtual slap in the face. Her brown eyes darkened with anger, and as she looked away from him, Harry waited for the inevitable – she'd fly away, and he'd be left alone. And it was better that way, because that was what he wanted.   
Wasn't it?   
Ginny straightened her shoulders and brought her eyes back to his. Expecting resignation and resentment, Harry sullenly looked at her pale face and found that he couldn't look away. Ginny's eyes were smoldering with an anger he had never seen her show; she began to speak, and her tone belied the anger in her face.   
"Let's cut to the chase, shall we, Harry?" she asked coolly. "You don't want my pity, I can see that. I wouldn't give it to you even if I could, because you certainly don't need it. You're pitying yourself enough for me and my entire family."   
Her voice was sharp, and though he wanted to interrupt her, he somehow couldn't. He didn't pity himself. He had a prophecy to fulfill; he didn't have time to feel anything...for anyone. Ginny continued her tirade.   
"I understand that you're hurting. Don't you think that we are, too? We knew Sirius. Not as well as you, but we knew him. And we miss him. But we lean on each other, and we'll get through it. You, on the other hand...you're trying so hard not to think about him that he's all you think about."   
Harry couldn't understand how his best friends didn't realize what Ginny did – that, alone or with others, Harry's mind was constantly on Sirius. He looked at her then, and the broken, lost expression in his eyes softened her. She finished quietly, "Don't you understand, Harry? When you ignore that he died...you ignore that he ever lived, too."   
Ginny looked down at her broom handle, seeming suddenly taken aback by her own words. His eyes prickling, Harry hung his head in sudden shame. Had he been ignoring everything that Sirius had stood for? Sirius escaped from Azkaban to set things right; he had fought for their cause without a thought for himself. And Harry repaid him by shutting himself up with his own sorrow...   
"I'm sorry, Gin." The words escaped his mouth before he'd even formed the thought. He looked up at her, uneasy, as the words hung in the air between them. Ginny's face was hidden from him by her ponytail. Panicked now, he rushed on, "I'm sorry for shutting myself up and not talking to anyone. I reckon...I reckon that's not what Sirius would have wanted."   
The prickling was very bad now; Harry resisted the urge to swipe his fist across his eyes. He blinked rapidly instead, and tasted the use of Sirius' name in the past tense. It was the first time he'd spoken of him aloud in a long while. Ginny was looking at him now, her dark eyes unreadable in the setting sunlight. Suddenly she flew at him, and Harry was so shocked by her sudden movement that he remained in place, not even thinking to duck until her small arms were around his neck, hugging him tightly. And for some reason, once she was hugging him, Harry didn't feel the need to duck...   
"Oh, Harry," she said, "of course I forgive you. I understand. I just wanted to you to see what a prat you were being." She pulled back, smiling, her hands still on his shoulders. Very quietly and simply, she added, "And I know he forgives you too."   
Unable to speak, Harry nodded and looked away. He felt Ginny's hand brush his cheek hesitantly before she spiraled down to the ground below, leaving him with decidedly more peaceful thoughts than he'd entered the afternoon with. Harry pointed his broom upward and sped towards the sun, thinking as he flew that the red streaks it left in the sky as it set were just the color of Ginny's hair.


End file.
